Chilling in Chirk

It good to have a day off! Long soaks in the bath, checking for injures and eating proper food.

I have spotted an ominous lump on the back of my right foot so must take it easy – I don’t want to exacerbate the problem.
I have been to Chirk once before, to attend the funeral of my friend Len Berry. He was the squire of the wonderful Kirtlington Morris who I once had the privilege of dancing with.
I was never sure why Len and Barbara moved from Oxfordshire to this part of the world but I must say it is beautiful, interesting and the people are so friendly.
It seems rather strange to me that these border lands are home to the riotous, loud and outrageous Border Morris tradition. Did these quiet villages really turn out such fantastic screaming, scary, blacked-up dancers? It appears that they did. I, for one, am surprised but also utterly delighted that good folk keep the tradition alive. We may not fully understand them but the world is all the better for these celebration. So here’s to Border Morris, Cotswold Morris and all of our other wonderful dance traditions.

Rest in peace Len and Barbara and thank you for introducing me to a tradition that I love.


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